


Proving a Point

by PipMer



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Character Study, Episode: s01e01 A Study in Pink, Friendship, Gen, M/M, Pre-Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-04
Updated: 2013-12-04
Packaged: 2018-01-03 07:49:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 967
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1067900
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PipMer/pseuds/PipMer
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After Afghanistan, John Watson is adrift. He believes that he is useless and without purpose.</p><p>Sherlock Holmes sets out to prove that the exact opposite is true.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Proving a Point

**Author's Note:**

> This is a short little character study that popped into my head and wouldn't go away until I wrote it down. It's actually been languishing on my hard drive for about a month. It's nothing that hasn't been said before, so thank you for your indulgence!
> 
> Thanks to prettybirdy979 for the quick once-over.
> 
> Thanks also to Ariane_Devere, whose wonderful transcript of A Study in Pink provided the italicised quotes. You can find that [here](http://arianedevere.livejournal.com/43794.html).

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

_“_   _What am I doing here?”_

_“Helping me make a point.”_

_“I'm supposed to be helping you pay the rent.”_

_“Yes, but this is more fun.”_

* * *

It was bad enough that he had lost his military career.   He thought he would at least be able to fall back on his medical degree.  No sense in letting so many years of schooling and training go to waste, after all.  It wouldn’t be as exciting as the battlefield, but it would do in a pinch.

 

Then he was told that he would never work as a surgeon again.  Intermittent tremor in his dominant hand.  Nerve damage, permanent.  They assured him that he could always work as a GP somewhere; those were always in high demand.   But he had chosen his field of study for a reason.  He excelled under pressure and high stress situations, and now the two professions that had provided that for him, and for which he was uniquely suited, were both lost to him. 

 

He was set adrift without direction, and existence seemed drab and pointless.

 

 

 

Then Sherlock Holmes took him to a crime scene, and reality started to shift.

 

 

 

Sherlock was clearly in his element, dancing around the body and spouting off brilliant deductions only a genius could have put together.  He certainly didn’t need any help from anybody else to do his job, and yet…

 

“Doctor Watson, what do you think?”

 

This extraordinary man was asking for his opinion.  Still hesitant and a bit suspicious, John knelt down and examined the body.  He stated what he thought the cause of death was, which apparently confirmed what Sherlock himself suspected.  A warm little ball of satisfaction settled in his belly.

 

That feeling quickly dissipated when he limped back out onto the street and found that his potential flatmate had up and disappeared, leaving him once again adrift.  The annoying git apparently wasn’t concerned with making much of a first impression, beyond showing off his remarkable ability.   Perhaps this flatshare business wasn’t that brilliant of an idea after all.

 

***

 

It was only after his strange meeting with the shadowy man at the warehouse, during the long drive back to Baker Street, that the realisation of what had actually occurred at Lauriston Gardens truly sank in.    Sherlock Holmes, practically a stranger, had shown him that his usefulness could extend far beyond that of being willing to share expenses.  A new way to utilise his medical expertise had been pointed out to him, and apparently it was going to be a hell of a lot more exciting than he had originally anticipated.

 

John smiled to himself as he glanced at his left hand, which was still as steady as a rock.

 

It never did occur to him that when Anthea announced she was to take him home and asked him where, that he had automatically responded with “Baker Street.  221B Baker Street.”

 

 

* * *

 

 

_“So what were we doing there?”_

_“Oh, just passing the time.  And proving a point.”_

_“What point?”_

_“You. **Mrs Hudson, Dr Watson will take the room upstairs**.”_

_“Says who?”_

_“Says the man at the door.”_

_***_

Sherlock was aggravating, annoying, exasperating, and a whole slew of other less complimentary adjectives.  John hadn’t even moved in yet; he wondered if would be able to survive living with this man day in and day out. 

 

Then Sherlock once again swept him up into his irresistible orbit, and John quickly forgot his earlier frustration in favour of the brilliance and charisma.

 

John’s heart was pumping, adrenaline rushing through his veins, serotonin and endorphins flooding his system.  Oh, how he had _missed_ this.  The sheer excitement, the possibility of danger, all crying out to him _more, more, more._ The fact that the chase had been a wild goose one, leaving them empty-handed, made no impact on the sense of satisfaction that settled over him as he got his breath back.  Afterwards, he and Sherlock leaned against the foyer wall, laughing together joyfully, bodies tilting ever so slightly towards each other.  Pure _happiness_ swamped his being, and he believed that if he were to die in that moment, he would have lived a full life. 

 

Then Angelo handed John his cane, his utterly superfluous cane, and his heart _soared._ Gratitude welled up within him as he turned towards the man responsible.  They grinned at each other, utterly comfortable in each other’s presence.  In that moment, John felt the almost irresistible urge to pin his new flatmate to the wall and snog the life out of him.  Who knew what would have transpired if Mrs Hudson hadn’t chosen that exact time to barrel out of her flat with a dire admonishment on her tongue.

 

And so instead of making a move on the world’s only consulting detective, John was introduced to more of Sherlock’s less desirable traits – petulance, lack of empathy, an addictive personality.  For a brief moment, right after Lestrade and his team left, he reconsidered the wisdom of continuing his association with Sherlock Holmes.  But after he found himself racing against the clock, experiencing the thrill of the chase, the blood pumping through his veins – all of that was wiped away.  All that mattered was that he had arrived in time to protect Sherlock’s life and rid the world of a dangerous man.  At the end of the day, he was exactly where he belonged, doing what he was born to do.

 

Walking at the side of Sherlock Holmes.

 

* * *

_“Good shot.”_

_  
“Yes. Yes, must have been, through that window.”_

_  
“Well,_ you’d _know… Are you all right?”_

_  
“Yes, of course I’m all right.”_

_  
“Well, you have just killed a man.”_

  
“ _Yes, I ...That’s true, isn’t it?  But… he wasn’t a very nice man_.”

 

 

And neither was Sherlock Holmes.  But he wasthe _wisest_ man Doctor John H. Watson would ever come to know.  

 

**Author's Note:**

> I'm providing an excerpt here of my next Sherlock fic, which has been more than a year in the making. It's a magical realism AU titled Red Number Day. I hope to start posting the first chapter within the week. So here's a little taste:
> 
>    
>  _He’s just turned eight years old when he almost drowns in the neighbour’s pool. When he wakes up in hospital, his head is pounding, his throat is raw and sore, and he feels nauseous. He takes stock of the rest of his body, and finds everything pretty much in working order, and all the parts where they should be and working as they should._
> 
>  
> 
>  
> 
> _The only major change he notices is that bold, red numbers have appeared on his right wrist, in the form of a date. They don’t wash off or disappear, and nobody else seems to be able to see them._
> 
>  
> 
>    
>  _He knows, as certain as he knows the day of his birth, that this is the day he is going to die._
> 
>  
> 
>    
> ++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
> 
>  
> 
> My tumblr is pretty new and doesn't have much on it, but if you'd like to follow for fic updates, or to drop me an 'ask' of any kind, including prompts, you can find me here:
> 
> http://pipmer.tumblr.com/


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